[log] A Total Eclipse of the Heart [closed]

[zunesareawesome]

Characters: Bluestar, Sunpaw/Star-Lord/Peter Quill, Stephen Strange, the Cat/Pounce
Location: Building 317
Date: Night 336
Summary: Sadness. Just...sadness.
Warnings: Animal death/character deaths, drowning, breakdown/potential suicidal ideation, cancer-- will update more CW's as necessary and also within threads



317: Judging from the outside, this was definitely a house, but going inside, it seems to have been converted into something like an infirmary. There are a lot of metal tables neatly arranged in the living room and kitchen, and the bedroom has a mattress lightly-stained with blood: it seems like someone at least tried to clean the thing up as best they could, and even flipped it over so the cleaner side is on top. The toilet and shower still work: the shower even has hot water. Makeshift shelves have been attached to one of the walls. "ALPHONSE ELRIC, DAY TWO HUNDRED AND NINETY SIX, FOR ANY ASSISTANCE PLEASE CONTACT @LELRIC." is written on the wall.

Comments

[zunesareawesome]

Peter hands over Blue's limp form over to Stephen, his heart's hammering in his chest. He scarcely notices that the other Cat's slinked to his side, but he's frozen with fear.

"You can fix her--fix this--she's fine, right? She's fine, she's okay--"

He's babbling, because babbling was better than thinking.

Thinking made him realize--

--no, don't think that--

"I just--I wasn't asleep for that long, I was just--it wasn't that long--"

[thewarningafter]

Stephen's heart sinks the moment he touches her body. Too cold. She's much too cold; this wasn't recent -- how long? How long ago, while they slept?

He knows, on some level, that this is pointless, but desperation sends him to his knees right there on the bathroom floor. His hands are shaking badly, but still he goes through all the correct motions -- check for breathing, clear the mouth, open the airway. Just like Rocket.

"C'mon, c'mon..." he's muttering to himself as he starts the chest compressions, pausing to blow into her nose.

She's too cold to the touch.

[absentconstellation]

“You musn’t blame yourselves.” He may as well nip this thing in the bud. He leans against Peter’s leg, trying to give him a physical anchor to reality. He’s not sure what Stephen is trying to do, but he can feel in the depths of his soul that it won’t work.

“If she had made the slightest sound I would have heard it long before you could. Nothing would be different if you had been awake.”

cw self-harm, major character deaths, freezing, cremation

[zunesareawesome]

Stephen's working, she'll be fine, she has to be fine--

--the fear's growing, the fear that he's too late, he was too late and it was his fault because he left her, he left her and he fell asleep and she's just a cat and she's so small, so small lying there on the ground while Stephen worked, and his stomach hurts and his heart's beating too fast and--

She's so frail, lying there in that hospital bed. A personality that was larger than life, faded and diminished by the disease that robbed her of her life. She wasn't supposed to look like this, this wasn't her, she looked scary, and she wanted him to take her hand--

--and he didn't. And she died.

He's so big and strong, he's always been big and strong, tough as anything and ready for a fight, but the cold robbed him of that spark in his eyes, that loud, boistrious soul fading away among the stars, he should be here making fun of him, but instead he's being incinerated, to become one with the stars again, and he's so sorry because maybe if he'd just listened to Gamora it wouldn't have turned out like this--

“You musn’t blame yourselves.” The presence of the Cat was comforting, but the words bounced off the tempest swirling in his heart. “If she had made the slightest sound I would have heard it long before you could. Nothing would be different if you had been awake.”

Talking like this about Blue meant she was gone and it was his fault, it was-

"No." It's just one word, a broken sob, his face crumples, he wants to break something, he wants to break his fists against the wall because that's the least he deserved, this wasn't happening, this couldn't be happening--

cw's continue

[thewarningafter]

He isn't sure he's doing this right; hadn't been sure when it was Rocket's body dragged in from the snow, either. His training guides him, long ago memories of practicing on a plastic dummy that wasn't anything like a real body -- that wasn't anything like a cat, or a raccoon, that didn't prepare him for this strange reality. Still, he tries...and still she remains.

Maybe the Cat's words will help him later, but for now Stephen keeps working, shutting both of them out. It won't be until the cramping of his hands makes it impossible to continue that he'll stop.

[absentconstellation]

There's nothing more the Cat can do for them. Each needs to work through their shock in their own way. As long as Peter doesn't move the Cat stays pressed against his leg, purring quietly in distress.

[zunesareawesome]

All Peter can do is watch, the Cat purring and the weight of him against his leg offering some measure of comfort. He's aware that he's crying, that his face is wet, but he feels so helpless, he can't do a thing and it's his fault.

--and when Stephen finally stops, there's a sense of finality that he just doesn't like.

"No--no, you gotta keep going! You-you can't stop!" He knows that it's too late, but what if it's not? "You can't stop--"

Because stopping meant she was dead, it was over, and it's his fault.

[thewarningafter]

"Peter --"

Stephen's voice is raw; he doesn't look up at Peter from where he kneels on the floor, calves and feet going numb, fingers of one hand still curled in Bluestar's cold, wet fur. He shakes his head, keeps on looking at her.

"She's gone. I'm sorry."

[absentconstellation]

There's too much grief in the room for the Cat to bear, including his own. He tries not to look at the body on the floor, the thing that was once Bluestar but is no longer. Instead he moves to put a paw on Stephen's knee.

He could really use some pets right now. Maybe they could too.

[zunesareawesome]

She's gone. I'm sorry.

The sound of a heart monitor flat-lining.

Peter shakes his head, he can't--he can't do this anymore and he wants to run, but he can't run, he can't run away and be taken into space--

"You--no. Please."

It's mumbled, he's losing hope and the cold, painful reality is setting in. It forms into a heavy weight in his chest, like a vise around his heart, cold and unyielding.

He finally just sits on the ground, and buries his face in his knees, his shoulders shaking.

[thewarningafter]

Stephen notices distantly that the bandage on his broken hand is damp as he finally withdraws it, his other hand lifting to pat clumsily at the Cat's shoulders. It's the sound of Peter shifting to the floor that tears his gaze away from Bluestar and makes him draw in a breath like he wants to say something more before letting it out again, defeated before he even starts.

He shifts, shuffling himself off his knees and next to Peter. He doesn't say anything, doesn't put an arm around him, but presses up against him, side by side. He glances at the Cat; lifts his hand in a vague but interpretable invitation.

[absentconstellation]

The Cat finds a spot vaguely between the two of them where he can curl up, still purring his distress. It may not be proper pets, but it's enough.

[zunesareawesome]

Peter stops slightly when he senses Stephen sit down, and when Stephen actually does press up against him. It helps a lot, and his silent sobs, while initially quite strong, fade as the minutes pass. He's lost in his own thoughts, lost in a vortex of blame and pain and just grief. Which is, as terrible as the circumstances are, better for him than his usual way of dealing with Bad Things, which is not dealing with them at all.

After Yondu, though, maybe it wasn't so bad to just let it all out.

He wants to pet the Cat, but he's not sure he can even bring himself to touch fur right now, but the purring is helping. Something kind and warm to simply just be there.

[thewarningafter]

Stephen does put his unbroken hand on the Cat, a steady and warm presence if not actual, proper pets. He shudders now and then -- with pain, with cold from the water that's soaked through his trouers and bandage, with aftershocks of what's just happened. Still he sits, able to offer at least his physical presence even if he doesn't have any words.

They'll need to get up eventually, he thinks. Lay Blue out more respectfully, maybe, before they leave her. Throw that bucket out into the rubble for the spiders to take.

Practical thoughts at least give his mind somewhere to go, let him push away the sickening thought, under the shock and sadness, that this almost simplifies things in a way. He hates himself as soon as he's thought it at all; he and Bluestar may not have seen eye to eye, but she was a living, breathing person. She didn't deserve this. Peter doesn't deserve this.

Never this.